


sov na sov

by stardustandswimmingpools



Series: Jewish!De La Vegas [2]
Category: In the Heights - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Jewish, F/M, Found Family, Friendship, Gen, Hanukkah, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jewish Holidays, Platonic Relationships, S'vivon | Dreidel, Sibling Bonding, WHY IS FOUND FAMILY NOT A TAG, also gratuitous judaism, am i just uncreative? probably, but again just abuela, but their dynamic is like siblings so, gratuitous name drops?, i also know sonny and usnavi are not siblings, jewish!de la vegas, once again i would die for them, probably incorrect spanish, title is from the hanukkah song svivon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-07 18:27:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16859107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustandswimmingpools/pseuds/stardustandswimmingpools
Summary: Sonny finds the dreidels.





	sov na sov

**Author's Note:**

> woah, she's back! a few preliminary notes:  
> 1) this fic is 100% the responsibility of tumblr user @kikabennet. I have been only skimming the surfaces of ao3 and tumblr both these past few months because of the busiest year of my entire life, but in my notes was a post from them that said happy hanukkah and would i please write more jewish!de la vega fic in honor of the holidays? and i was like WELL SINCE YOU ASKED SO NICELY so here it is, two thousand words, from my heart to your eyes, @kikabennet. please, enjoy.  
> 2) for anyone keeping track, i promise i am working on the second part of House Arrest, it's just slow going because of aforementioned busy fuckin senior year, so please forgive me.  
> 3) i would die for the jewish!de la vegas  
> 4) i wrote this all in pretty much one fell swoop and it's not beta read or anything other than a quick grammarly check, so...yeah  
> please please enjoy! hopefully this will tide any of you guys over while i work on the longer shit i'm doing. and happy happy hanukkah to my jewish pals!!!!!! chag sameach!!!

There’s a box under Usnavi’s bed. It is very _clearly_ labeled: _Hanukkah stuff — only_ _~~Abuela~~ _ _Usnavi can touch!_

So why Sonny is entering the living room with said box in his arms is truly beyond Usnavi.

“Can’t believe you forgot about this,” he says. Usnavi snaps his head up from the newspaper and raises his eyebrows.

“I didn’t forget about it,” he says. “And why are you goin’ through my stuff?”

“It’s under your bed, not like you keep anything important there,” Sonny replies. “Why didn’t you take it out?”

“I…” Okay, maybe Usnavi had forgotten. Only for a minute. He’d thought: _Let’s put up the decorations!_ And then Vanessa had come in, and it had inconveniently slipped his mind. “So, what, you wanna decorate? I thought you said decorating was stupid.”

“I did,” Sonny says, affronted. “That don’t mean I don’t want to do it.” He shakes his head, chuckling, as if Usnavi is a blockhead for missing that apparent double-meaning.

The box is filled with tchotchkes; little odds and ends, scraps and things Usnavi and Abuela and sometimes Sonny have collected over the years. Sonny says an enthusiastic “Yooooo!” when he pulls out a homemade clay Hanukkiah with nuts for candleholders. Two of them are missing. “Why don’t we light this?”

“Because it doesn’t have a sixth and eighth night, genius,” Usnavi says, rolling his eyes.

Sonny pulls out a bag and his eyes widen. “Usnavi, _que?!_ We forgot dreidel!”

“Stop sayin’ I forgot stuff, a’ight? I don’t forget,” Usnavi retorts. “I was just...puttin’ it off.”

Sonny whirls around from his cross-legged spot on the floor and squints at Usnavi. He suspiciously scans him. “‘Til when?”

Usnavi shifts. “‘Til...never.”

Sonny gives a dramatically offended gasp. He leaps to his feet and points an accusatory finger in Usnavi’s face. Usnavi bats it away. “J’accuse!” he declares. “You traitor. This is because you always lose, ain’t it?”

“I do not!”

“You do! Don’t think I forgot, _mentiroso._ _Shin_ s and _nun_ s all the way. Usnavi de la Vega, champion loser of the neighborhood —”

“ _Cállate,_ ” Usnavi says flatly, snatching the dreidel bag from Sonny. “Just because I lose doesn’t mean I don’t wanna play. I just thought we could put it away this year!”

Sonny shakes his head now, clearly disbelieving. “You’re a liar and a sore loser, cuz. I always knew it.” And then his face lights up and oh, Usnavi is _screwed_. “Which is _why_ I think we should have a dreidel tournament!”

Is it suddenly warmer in the room?

“We are not having a dreidel tournament,” Usnavi says. “You can’t even have a tournament with dreidel, it ain’t a two-person game.” But Sonny’s latched on to the idea now.

“Fine. A game, then. Invite the whole _barrio_.” Usnavi opens his mouth to deny, and Sonny challenges, “What’re you afraid of, huh? Losin’?”

“ _I don’t lose_ ,” Usnavi snaps, just on the precipice of irritation. “And we ain’t havin’ any dreidel games. _Claro_?”

They have a dreidel game.

Usnavi tries to talk it down, but that only seems to fan the flames. He only starts getting really nervous when Camila and Nina join. Usnavi loves the Rosarios with his whole heart, and he would like nothing less than to be on the other end of a gameplay table with any of them. When they win they’re ruthless; when they lose, even more so. Usnavi learned his lesson playing Go Fish with Nina in fourth grade. She does _not_ like to lose.

The game is almost referee’d by Graffiti Pete, who tries to sit out on account of how he doesn’t know how to play and besides, he can’t ever get the dreidel to spin right. Sonny immediately protests this with the argument that if Pete doesn’t know how to play then how will he know when someone’s breaking a rule, and he may as well just join the game and Sonny will be the unofficial referee. There’s really no way to decline that, especially after he’s assaulted with Sonny’s signature puppy dog eyes, so Pete gets roped in. Usnavi almost feels sorry for the guy. Only he has an immunity to those eyes. He and maybe Vanessa.

The truth is, Usnavi hadn’t hidden the dreidels away because he hates losing. He’s accustomed to losing. Board games and whatnot aren’t really his forte, and that’s fine by him.

Usnavi had hidden the dreidels because Sonny _always wins._

It’s like a plague. The more Sonny wins, the more bravado he displays; the more he brags, the more his ego inflates; the more his ego inflates, the more difficult it becomes to handle him. And Usnavi really loves Sonny, faults and all, but it can get very challenging to remember that when his cousin is holding up a dreidel to his face and doing a truly awful victory dance while chanting, “Sonny got a gimel! Sonny got a gimel!”

But now they’re in it and there’s no going back.

Everyone sort of filters into the De La Vega home at around 5:45 the following evening. Usnavi braces himself for the next couple of hours.

Sonny has generously prepared for the game by setting the table with dreidels and M&Ms. When everyone is gathered around the table, he clears his throat.

“Welcome to the first annual De La Vega Dreidel Tournament, hosted by yours truly,” says Sonny. He bows graciously. Usnavi rolls his eyes. Next to him, Vanessa snickers. “We will be usin’ M&Ms as currency because gelt is a little pricey, and we ain’t a fountain of wealth. I will go over the rules once right now, but if you still are not sure, tough luck.” He grins. “Kiddin’ — you can ask me or Usnavi. Here we go. If you land on _gimel_ — that’s the one with the feet — you take the whole pot. _Hay_ , the little table with a broken leg, means you take half the pot — roundin’ down. _Nun_ is the one like a phone, and you don’t do nothin’, and _shin_ , this one with three prongs, means you ante up. Capische? No cheating allowed.” He glares once around the room, which is almost hilarious because Sonny is much too skinny to be intimidating. “Any questions?”

Benny raises his hand slightly. “Will there be spinning lessons?”

Sonny snorts. “Practice makes perfect, my man. Just do your best.” No one else chimes in, so Sonny claps once to break. “Alright, let’s do it!”

It comes as no shock to Usnavi when Camila’s first spin is a gimel. She cheers and sweeps the pot from the center into her pile. Usnavi sighs good-naturedly.

And the game continues, clockwise around the table. Sonny gets a hay. Usnavi spins a gimel, to his absolute shock. Vanessa gets hay. Nina gets shin. Kevin gets shin. Carla gets hay. Pete gets nun. Benny gets nun. The cycle repeats.

And Usnavi, sitting next to Vanessa with their hands entwined on the tabletop, could get used to this.

It’s nice. Somehow, despite the clamor, and despite Camila winning everything, and despite the fact that holding Vanessa’s hand with one hand and spinning a dreidel with the other makes use of both of Usnavi’s hands and therefore makes it challenging to do anything else — somehow, it’s actually...really, really nice. Usnavi feels a familiar glow of warmth spread from his sternum, the same kind he gets from a sip of _café con leche_ on one of these cold wintry days.

He squeezes Vanessa’s hand, and she squeezes back and feeds him a pity M&M when he gets out.

Gameplay stretches into the evening. Almost an hour has elapsed since the start of the game, and Usnavi and Nina, both long since out, have retired to the kitchen to make some headway on dinner. Vanessa is still in, but she’ll pop in occasionally with a handful of M&Ms for each of them and a kiss on the cheek for Usnavi.

“Not devastated about getting out?” Usnavi teases as he fries the latkes.

Nina scrunches up her nose. “Nah. I can take it.”

“Oh, sure. You’ve always been a really gracious loser,” says Usnavi.

Nina hits him with a dish towel. “I’m not competitive!”

“Whatever you say, Nina.”

“How does it feel to be beaten by your younger cousin?”

“Ha! I’m used to it. Sonny always kills me at these things.”

Nina laughs. “It’s a game of luck. It’s all just coincidence.”

“What are you talkin’ about? This game is pure skill. It’s just a skill I ain’t got, that’s all. But Sonny, he has” — Usnavi rubs his fingers together before Nina’s eyes — “the magic touch.” He drops his hand to the handle of the frying pan. “Always has.”

“So does my mom,” Nina says wisely. “The alleged magic touch.”

“Yeah, but we always knew about that.”

There’s an uproarious cacophony from the next room. Usnavi almost drops his spatula; some oil flicks off it onto his nose, and he rubs hurriedly at it as Nina chuckles. Vanessa appears in the doorway a moment later, frowning, arms crossed over her chest.

“Got out?” Usnavi asks sympathetically. Vanessa scoffs. Nina giggles at her and tosses her a piece of gelt.

“Consolation prize,” she says. Vanessa unwraps and eats it.

“Oh, shit, this is good! What’s it called again?”

“Gelt,” Usnavi says. “It’s just chocolate.”

“It’s chocolate _money,_ Usnavi,” Vanessa says, sliding over to him and slinging an arm over his shoulder. “That makes it valuable.”

“Wish it was real money,” Usnavi says.

“Shut up, lottery winner,” says Nina. Usnavi makes a face at her.

“That wasn’t even me,” he says before he can stop himself. “Abuela was the one who won.”

Silence descends, somber and displaced, in the kitchen. From the room next over, Usnavi can hear the sounds of dreidels spinning, murmurs of cheers from his friends and family. But there’s no tension in the kitchen when he mentions Abuela. Instead, it’s almost peaceful. It’s as if all it took was an acknowledgment. That she’s out there somewhere, and she’s keeping an eye on them.

Only a moment later Sonny slides into the kitchen on socks, pouting angrily. “I got played!” he says. “Betrayed by my own family!”

Usnavi gapes at him. “No way, did you lose?”

“You bet your _culo_ he lost,” Camila says, with a smug look as she steps into the kitchen. It’s getting a little crowded in here, and Usnavi is feeling the heat.

“It hit the dreidel box! It don’t count!” Sonny protests. Usnavi bursts out laughing. He steps over to Sonny and ruffles his hair.

“Hey, Son’, don’t stress. You can’t beat the unbeatable, we always knew that. It was only a matter of time before you finally got your pride handed to you on a silver platter.”

Nina nods sagely. “I should’ve warned you. My mom doesn’t lose.”

“Oh, we know,” Vanessa says, but she smiles at Camila.

Usnavi is really starting to sweat now. He raises up the spatula as threateningly as he can. “Okay, everyone scram! I’m cookin’ in here!”

The room clears until it’s just Sonny and Usnavi left. Usnavi raises an eyebrow at him. “Gimme a hand?”

“Aw, cuz, you know I can’t —”

“Consider it punishment for losing your own game.”

Sonny clutches his heart. “Can’t my wounded pride be punishment enough?”

Usnavi hands Sonny a roll of paper towels and gestures with his spatula at the half-filled plate of latkes. “No, it can’t. _Dale._ ”

Sonny grumbles and lays out a paper towel.

“Went well, though,” Usnavi concedes. “All things considered.”

“Told you! You just needed the right mastermind.”

Usnavi shrugs. “I dunno about that. But it was the right thing to do. Family, games…” He elbows Sonny’s shoulder. “Good idea, Sonny.”

Sonny doesn’t answer for a second. Usnavi is by now very much acclimated to the moment Sonny always needs to take when Usnavi shifts from teasing to genuine, so he waits.

“Yeah,” Sonny says. He pauses. “I think it’s what Abuela would’ve wanted.” He glances at Usnavi. “Right?”

Usnavi pushes the last latke from the frying pan onto his spatula and lays it out on the plate. He inhales; the smell of delicious potato pancakes wafts over his senses, and he smiles lightly.

“Yeah,” he says. “I think so, Sonny.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you all so much for reading! if you liked it go ahead and leave a comment, and if you didn't like it also leave a comment - all feedback welcome. i'm on tumblr sporadically as @vivilevone - catch ya on the flip side!


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